A Tarnished PM Foresees His Moral Death
I know that I shall lose the vote
Sometime in March, or May, or June
Those ranged against me laugh and gloat
Those on my side think me poltroon
My country is extremely cross
My countrymen despise my name
No likely end can spare me loss
Or flood of tears wash clean my shame
Nor law, nor sense of wrong and right
Nor moral compass did I heed
A sordid impulse of pure fright
Drove me to base and craven deed
I balance all, bring all to mind
I've dashed their hopes, betrayed their trust
‘Son of the Manse’ by all maligned
My reputation, turned to dust
ND
3 comments:
Nick, you are the Titus Lucretius Carus, or alternatively Horace des nos jours.
Well done sir!
"I have a rendezvous with Fate
At some disputed ballot box"
nice one, Anon - why not have a crack at the rest ?
thanks, TT
- and carpe diem to the lot of you !
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